And as tradition’s costume makes you grand,
My eyes are filled with grit of wild wonder.
Tears form like buds of awe and lust combined.
I whisper let no man cast asunder.
I want to taste those lips of crimson heat
And put my cheek against your stunning face.
Then kiss your throat and ears and nape and breasts
So you might invite me to share your space.
Tumbled and tight we’ll make a two-backed beast
Of hues diverse and soft tones of history.
Heaven will send our teachers and our guides,
Your hands in mine as we conceive mystery.
For now I’ll just admire your maiden’s pose
And wait ‘til we share our love’s blood red rose.